Empire
by ElementalBlade
Summary: Eragon has many tasks ahead of him, such as rescuing the last dragon egg, free or destroy the king's Eldunarí, and, ultimately, overthrow Galbatorix, the mad but powerful king of Alagaesia. EragonXArya later on.


Author's Notes:

Hi! This is my first fic on here, although I've been writing fanfiction for about three years now.

I should probably point this out now... I won't be able to italicize the thoughts or mental conversations, so I'm sorry for the confusion...

Enjoy the chapter, and please leave me some feedback...

Thorn soared through the cloudy sky. Murtagh felt the rain pounding down onto his head as Thorn flew under and through the clouds. He was already soaked and was very annoyed.

I wish that our master did not make us kill that dragon and Rider, Murtagh commented to Thorn.

I am glad of it! growled Thorn in response. That dragon hurt me badly, he did. Even though you healed me, I still shudder from what it did to me.

But their deaths will only infuriate the elves and maybe even Eragon if he knows of them.

I know you did not want to kill them. However, that is the way of the world. All things must come to an end sooner or later.

Urû'baen is up ahead, growled Murtagh. And Galbatorix will probably punish us again.

We will get back at him, replied Thorn.

Urû'baen drew ever closer. The walls of the city were swarming with thousands of soldiers. The men looked afraid to Murtagh's searching gaze.

We must go see the king, Thorn told his Rider. He wants us.

Murtagh cursed as Thorn landed inside the walls of the city. In front of them, the gates to the castle where Galbatorix ruled stood wide open, spilling a dim light from within the dark entrance hall.

As Murtagh and Thorn entered the palace, two guards opened a side door hidden in the wall for them and they passed into the gloomy hallway beyond.

The walls were bare except for torch brackets holding aloft flaming torches. The light from the torches was dim and cast long shadows as Murtagh and Thorn passed them. At the end of the hallway was a set of black and silver doors. Thorn pushed them open with his snout and the pair entered Galbatorix's throne room.

The room was large. The walls were made of stone, lanterns hung from the ceiling and at the opposite end of the throne room from the door, on a black marble throne, sat Galbatorix. He was robed entirely in gold and black, with a golden crown resting upon his brow. In his black eyes there gleamed a terrible anger that never left them. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his right hand rested upon the hilt of a violet sword which was encased in a scabbard of purple steel.

Murtagh and Thorn stopped before the king. Murtagh knelt unwillingly, while Thorn simply stood back and growled.

"So," sneered Galbatorix. His smooth voice sounded clearly in the hall and echoed off the walls so it sounded like ten Galbatorixs were talking. "You were unwilling to defeat Oromis and Glaedr, were you not?" Murtagh did not answer, and the king continued, "I did not wish to kill them but as you saw clearly, Murtagh, Thorn, they refused to surrender to me."

"You lie!" exclaimed Murtagh. "You would have killed them anyway after taking Glaedr's Eldunarí!"

"SILENCE!" roared Galbatorix. "Fifty lashes Murtagh! And Thorn, you will be seen to by Shruikan!"

Then Galbatorix raised his hand, and spoke two words in the Ancient Language. Murtagh and Thorn collapsed, unconscious, to the stone floor, and Galbatorix laughed cruelly as they fell.

The next thing Murtagh knew, he was chained to a post. He opened his eyes and looked around.

He was in a courtyard of Galbatorix's castle. Behind him, the man who would whip him stood, his whip drawn back.

In the back of his mind, he could feel the rage and pain of Thorn as Shruikan slashed his wings with his large claws. Murtagh winced as the pain reached his arms.

Suddenly it felt like a series of red-hot pokers struck his back as the whip smote him. Murtagh clenched his teeth as the scar on his back split along its length, and hot blood streamed down his body. "One!" said the man. Murtagh closed his eyes, and resigned himself to waiting as the whip continued to carve terrible wounds in his flesh.

Finally, "Fifty!" was heard. Once the word was spoken, the chains holding Murtagh were opened and he fell to the ground. He grunted as all fifty of his wounds throbbed, along with the pain Thorn was feeling from Shruikan's torture. Murtagh closed his eyes, and knew no more.

He felt someone shaking him, and an urgent voice say "Blast it Rider wake up! I have an urgent message from the king!"

Murtagh bolted upright and almost howled in agony as his wounds throbbed. "What?"

A messenger stood before him. "I am sorry I disturbed you," said the messenger, "But I was ordered to. The king is very angry. He has been informed that the Varden have taken one of the major cities of the Empire."

"You may go," growled Murtagh.

"I apologize for disturbing—" began the messenger.

"GO!" yelled Murtagh. The messenger turned away and ran out of Murtagh's room. Without examining his surroundings, Murtagh pulled on his shirt, sheathed Zar'roc, which lay on the floor beside his bed, and stormed out of the room, towards Galbatorix's throne room.

When Murtagh arrived, he realized that the king had called for a meeting. Thorn was curled up in a ball in one corner of the room. A long table and many chairs had been set up in front of the throne, which stood at the head of the table.

All but one of the chairs were occupied by soldiers, and a few members of the Black Hand, Galbatorix's network of spies and magicians. The empty chair stood immediately on the right side of Galbatorix's throne. Murtagh dropped into the chair, wincing with pain as his wounds throbbed again.

Galbatorix glanced sideways at him, and then he spoke. "Before you ask anything, Murtagh, I have some news to tell all of you who are assembled here today. The Varden have taken one of our major cities of my Empire. It lies in the western borders of the land, and it borders the sea. Can you guess which city?"

The group of men and women nodded, not daring to speak. They could see the rage in Galbatorix's eyes, and they feared punishment if they spoke a word.

"Eragon Shadeslayer has helped them do this, and he has killed three of my best spellcasters. I have also heard that a Shade has been both created and defeated within an hour."

"Surely King Galbatorix," said Murtagh, seeming polite, "But is this why you have gathered us, or do you have a job for us?"

"I have a mission for all of you, to tell you the truth," Galbatorix replied, his voice still containing that smooth cast to it. "I want all of you to march to Feinster and to remove the Varden from the city. We can not afford to allow them to keep it!"

"But can so few men defeat the Varden?" asked Murtagh. "And am I to go with them?"

"You are meant to go with them, and these men are my men who can not feel pain," replied Galbatorix. "You and Thorn will capture Eragon and Saphira this time, Murtagh. I will have to speak with you in private after this discussion."

Murtagh nodded curtly.

"You will leave tomorrow, at the first light of dawn," ordered Galbatorix. "If you are not gone by the time Shruikan flies over the city, he will tare the lot of you apart! Go!"

The soldiers fled from the room, leaving Murtagh, Thorn and Galbatorix alone together.

The king reached into his pocket and withdrew five more Eldunarí. "These will help you with your job, Murtagh," he said. "If you fail, you shall be punished severely!"

Murtagh took the Eldunarí and stuck them in his belt.

"I am still furious with you Murtagh," said Galbatorix. "I am angry with you for not taking Glaedr's Eldunarí," he answered to Murtagh's curious look.

"He would have killed us!" snapped Murtagh.

"I know, but you could have held him in place with magic! Or did you not want to help me gather more strength? Answer me!"

Murtagh started to reply but before he could Galbatorix raised his left hand and there was a flash of purple light.

Murtagh screamed as red-hot flames licked his body. He collapsed, howling and writhing on the floor. Then he raised his own hand and with his entire mind concentrated, he thought of one thing.

The flash of ruby light smote Galbatorix on the chest, directly over his heart. The king stumbled backwards, his eyes widening. He clutched his heart and toppled backwards.


End file.
